Vagabonds Part Two: Masks
by Sewer Slider
Summary: AU.The war on Mars continues, but things are taking a turn for the worse for the Freedom Fighters. Old friends, new enemies and a few shocks in store for the mice. Complete.
1. Fighting for Freedom

**Author Note: **Hey guys! Happy new year! This is the second part of the Vagabonds series and by far the darkest. It contains situations which may upset some readers - please just back away from the story i this applies to you, rather than flaming me.

Also, this part and the next references the cartoon quite a lot so if something seems familiar, it probably is. However, things are going to be very different...

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the central characters or the premise. I don't even have a Stoker toy! There are characters within that belong to me - the rule to go by is; if you recognise the character it's not mine.

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Brimstone was under attack.

The Plutarkian forces had descended en masse on the already ravaged city, intent that this time, the entire city would fall and they would achieve victory, obtaining the land for Plutark.

There was a small problem with this plan however – the same problem they experienced every time they tried to gain ground in the ongoing war.

"AAOOWW!"

Stoker leapt over the rise, blasting at a Plutarkian vehicle and blowing it to pieces, signalling behind him.

"Freedom Fighters – ATTACK!"

The entire population of the Brimstone Freedom Fighter soldiers leapt over the rise Stoker had just leapt, firing at the invaders. One group swung to the right, another veered left. The third, led by Stoker himself, cut a swathe through the centre of the oncoming army.

Throttle's bike hit the ground first and he let go of the handlebars, trusting his bike to steer straight and steady as, a gun in either hand, he began shooting at the soldiers on foot, knocking their weapons away and taking them down and out.

Stoker took to the air again, landing his bike on the front of a Plutarkian all-terrain vehicle. Before the startled invaders could respond, Stoker send the pair flying and leapt his bike from the vehicle, allowing it to speed off driverless and crash in the distance.

"Aaooww!"

Bike going at full speed, Vinnie jumped the rise, mimicking Stoker by landing on another all-terrain vehicle. Unfortunately his inexperience proved to be his undoing. Unable to balance the bike on the vehicle, he fell to one side and rode shakily away, veering wildly.

"Keep practising punk," Stoker shouted after him, sounding like he might be laughing.

"Yeah, yeah." Vinnie didn't sound remotely amused.

To Vinnie's left, Carbine was advancing through the hordes, taking out several Sand Raiders, who had pledged their allegiance to the Plutarkians after seeing the way the war was going. Stoker pulled up beside her. "Wanna call the crash play Carbine?"

Carbine activated her helmet radio link. "Freedom Fighters – Tangle Spring Seven!"

"Outstanding call!" Stoker and Carbine exchanged high fives as they rode back into formation with the rest of the Freedom Fighters, releasing tangle springs from their bikes, which stopped anything with wheels or treads dead in its tracks. It left most of the Plutarkian vehicles either stuck firmly in place or crashed into each other trying to avoid the onslaught.

Something caught her eye and she turned her head to see Vinnie steam ahead of her, giving a grin and a wink as he pulled two grenades from his stash and pulled the pins with his teeth, tearing ahead of her and casually throwing each into tanks, both stuck on the springs but still able to use their weapons. The Plutarkians dived for cover as the machines exploded, Vinnie pulling ahead with flames chasing his tail, barely dodging a laser as he made it to comparative safety.

In spite of the situation, Carbine felt a flash of irritation, curbed by her concern. It was obvious to everyone that Stoker was trying to instil leadership tactics in her and although he was hardly jealous of that, he still wanted to look the hero in her eyes, to be the one to save the day and win the undying admiration of the girl – her. Hence the headlong and often foolhardy dashes into danger.

She forced Vinnie out of her mind, trusting him to stay in one piece and went back to returning fire on the enemy.

"What's the matter?" Vinnie weaved around laser blasts, taunting the Plutarkians. "Can't hit one li'l old studly mouse, huh?"

In answer, a bullet sheared across his thigh, burning a line through the skin there. Not a laser hit – it had to be a sniper, somewhere behind the rocks.

Veering 180 degrees, Vinnie rested a hand on the wound and determined it was shallow, barely a scratch really. Still, it was aggravating. "Time for that old Vinnie magic. Nothing up my sleeve!" He approached the two turrets, managing to swerve their lasers and leaping in the air as he went between them, hitting a button on his dash. His bike fired two missiles, which hit the tops of the towers dead on, taking out their weapons systems and raining bricks and mortar onto the ground below.

Racing back to the rest of the Freedom Fighters, it was clear that the battle was over, the Plutarkians hurriedly retreating, the mice celebrating. Vinnie parked his bike for a moment and retrieved a bandage – all the Freedom Fighters carried emergency medical supplies, never knowing when they would be needed.

"We've got those fish swimming upstream now bros!" Stoker shouted over the whoops.

Vinnie wrapped the bandage hurriedly around his leg as Carbine and Throttle came up behind him. "How's it hanging Vinnie?" asked Carbine, her tone mild enough but a slight frown on her face giving away her concern.

Vinnie didn't turn to see it. "Just a little battle tattoo, that's all…huh?"

The three turned as a missile landed nearby, blowing several rock formations into tiny stones.

"Bros," said Stoker grimly. "Let's at 'em!"

The Freedom Fighters mounted up on their bikes and gave chase to the army, determined to catch up to them. The action would lead to a definitive victory, making Brimstone their own again – a much-needed triumph after the recent loss of the Argyle Basin and the capture or killings of the Freedom Fighters located in the area. The loss was still fresh enough in all their minds to add speed to their wheels.

But it was not to be. As the last Plutarkians headed between two high, steep ridges of rock, an explosive device was triggered, presumably planted there for just such an emergency. The resulting blast brought the rocks tumbling down, cutting off the Freedom Fighters route after the invaders. Stoker and Vinnie, leading the pack, were forced to come to screeching halts, those behind them almost running into them.

"Dammit!" Stoker growled, a scowl on his face. They were boxed in with only one way out, the rocks too high or too unstable to ride up. "Back up, go around!"

The Freedom Fighters did so, going as fast as was possible in spite of the knowledge that the Plutarkians would be long gone. A few minutes later, when they were able to double back to where the explosion had occurred, they discovered they were right – there was no sign of where the invaders had gone.

"Probably all got back to Stilton's Castle," said Carbine irritably. "It's the closest Plutarkian stronghold to Brimstone."

"And the nearest thing to impenetrable." Stoker sighed and leant back in the saddle, looking discouraged, an expression he was wearing more and more often recently. "No point in hanging around here bros. Let's get back to HQ, patch up whoever needs it."

Vinnie scowled, wondering if Stoker was looking in his direction with that comment, but said nothing as the group made their way back to headquarters, a cave located under a pile of rubble that had once been a monastery to one of the more tolerant religious orders on Mars. The monks were long gone, the monastery one of the buildings levelled in the Plutarkians first stroke on Brimstone.

Stoker busied himself immediately by speaking first to Harley briefly, then to Mace. Both were non-combatants and had remained behind while the others went out to fight. Harley did a quick once-over on a few of the bikes, checking for damage while Mace and Stoker relayed the events of the day to Freedom Fighters outside Brimstone.

"Do we whip tail, or do we whip tail!" Vendel, one of the first Freedom Fighters, was obviously pleased with himself, punching the air with his fists and grinning widely.

"We whip tail!" confirmed Redstone, high-fiving his friend.

"This calls for a celebration!" Denel ran into the storage cupboard where they kept their supplies and pulled out several drinks, tossing them in the direction of the others. "Time to party!"

"I'd feel better if we'd stopped them before they escaped," commented Carbine dryly, catching a bottle.

"We all would," said Denel, snagging a bottle for herself. "But there's nothing we can do about it now and a victory is a victory. I'll take what we can get."

Carbine nodded. "Yeah. We did win one today."

Vendel clapped a hand on her shoulder. "Relax kid; you're too young to be worrying about the future all the time."

"Someone has to," she replied, glancing over at Vinnie, who was messing with the radio, trying to pick up a signal from the only music station still available on Mars, run by some kids in the Utopia refugee camp trying to stave off boredom and the constant worry of invasion.

"Punk's got the right idea," said Redstone, amused. "Forget about it for tonight. Tomorrow we can plan some way of bringing down Stilton's Castle – there has to be some way in, right? But for tonight, I wanna forget about the war and just let loose."

Carbine nodded, shooting the group a grin before going to sit with Throttle and Stoker, waiting for Vinnie to join them. The white mouse was still messing with the radio, a wide smile spreading across his face as he finally got a reception.

"Radio Free Mars, bootleggin' Earth rock n' roll, loud, proud and b-b-bad to the b-b-bone!" He did an athletic back flip, landing on a nearby table on his hands and startling the hell out of the mice sat there, before slamming face first into one of the girders near the ceiling and sliding to the floor.

Carbine sighed and covered her face, snickering quietly to herself. "Oh yeah, that's our Vinnie."

"I think the family motto was 'leap before you look'," agreed Throttle with a chuckle.

Carbine watched Vinnie with an affectionate grin on her face – one that slowly faded as Harley, the Freedom Fighters mechanic and the closest thing they had to a medic walked over to Vinnie and chatted to him while she examined the bullet wound he'd sustained earlier. They were too far away to hear the conversation, but she would definitely describe the way they looked as 'flirtatious'.

Throttle caught her glaring and checked out what had pissed her off, shaking his head when he realised. Pitching his voice low so that Stoker couldn't hear, he said, "Don't tell me you're jealous of_Harley_?"

"Me? Jealous?" Carbine snorted derisively. "Absolutely not. But I could patch up Vinnie y'know."

"And she's got something going with your _uncle_ – her liking Vinnie would be just wrong."

"I _know_ that," hissed Carbine. "But I'm not sure her and Stoke _do_ have anything going on – not that I'm worried."

"It's just Vinnie's way," said Throttle. "Y'know, when he was about thirteen, he'd flirt with my mom to get us snacks?"

Carbine raised an eyebrow, regaining some of her good humour at the thought. "No way."

"Yup. A real smooth talker and she was secretly flattered."

"How did you feel about it?"

"Mortified," replied Throttle promptly, making Carbine grin. But any other questions she might have asked were interrupted by the arrival of Mace to the table.

"Hey, nice calls back at Brimstone Rookie," said Mace, resting a hand on Carbine's shoulder.

"Why, thank you Mace," she replied, flattered. "I've been getting some pointers from Stoke."

"Yeah, we're gonna pulverise those Plutarkian pug fish," said Throttle, raising his drink in the air. "Right guys!"

The entire hall reverberated with cheers as the rest of the Freedom Fighters wholeheartedly agreed with the sentiment, raising their mugs in a toast. Carbine joined in with the cheers – but paused as she noticed the look on Stoker's face. He seemed unmoved by the outpouring of bravado, scowling into his drink. Once the applause died down, he abruptly stood and walked away. Carbine watched him leave, a worried frown on her face, which deepened as Stoker's path meant she once again caught sight of Harley and Vinnie. As she watched, Harley finished tying off Vinnie's bandage and leaned over to ruffle his ears.

"Be glad you didn't nick that pretty little face of yours," she said with a grin, getting to her feet. Vinnie smiled, looking slightly embarrassed at the compliment – then looked over to Carbine out of the corner of his eye. She did not seem to be happy and his heart sank slightly. She'd never been too pleased with him being over-friendly with other girls and her expression was bordering on murderous.

"Um, I gotta go check Carbine's cooling system," he said quickly, standing up himself and sending his best charming smile at his girlfriend.

"Right," said Harley absently, noticing that Stoker had gone and looking around for any sign of him. "Keep your powder dry."

"Hey Throttle," shouted Afterburn from the Vid-screen. "You got a call from Utopia."

Throttle rolled his eyes and went over to the vid-screen, wondering if it was his mother Altezza checking up on him – he hated it when she did that but if she had heard about the battle today, she would be sure to call in at some point. However, it wasn't – it was Chopper, the kid his mom looked after her own parents had never showed after the Plutarkian invasion, his honorary baby sister. Not such a baby anymore of course. That was the trouble.

"Hey Chopper. What's going on?"

Chopper grinned into the vid-screen and Throttle noticed she wasn't alone, accompanied by her friends Rimfire and Primer, twins who were the children of his friend Modo's sister.

_Wonder what happened to Modo…_

He shoved that thought away in a hurry.

"Great!" announced Chopper, that determined look in her eye. He knew what that meant. "My shooting's up to a 78 accuracy average, Rimfire beat Stanchion racing today and Primer landed perfectly from twenty four feet while shooting – she got a round of applause and everything. Looks like we're ready to join the Freedom Fighters!"

Throttle sighed, resting his hands on the table and leaning closer to the vid-screen. "I've told you before Chopper, you're only sixteen – all of you," he continued, including Rimfire and Primer. Chopper was pouting and Rimfire seemed dejected, hanging his head. Only Primer looked right at him, scowling.

"Maybe when you get some more meat on your bones, you can join up," he continued, trying to mollify them even though he knew what the counter argument would be. They had been through this conversation too many times before.

"You weren't much older than us when you joined the Freedom Fighters," said Chopper, right on cue.

"Carbine was our age," added Rimfire.

"And Vinnie was even younger," finished Primer.

"There were – circumstances," said Throttle, wondering if he could get Stoker over here to put an end to the conversation once and for all. It was one thing that usually worked, but unfortunately, Stoker was nowhere in sight. He was going to have to argue this one out.

Vinnie joined Carbine at the table and wrapped his tail around her waist. "So babe, you get a kick out of watching me do my hero thing today?"

"Why don't you ask your bimbette buddy?" asked Carbine, folding her arms.

Vinnie looked confused. "Huh? She was just bandaging my leg."

"Sure."

Putting an arm around her shoulders, Vinnie laughed. "Aw, don't be jealous sweetheart – can't help it if the ladies can't resist the Vin-man!"

Carbine shoved him, imitating Vinnie's laugh sarcastically.

Vinnie frowned at her. "C'mon babe, what's eating you? This isn't about Harley."

"Stoker's acting strange," said Carbine quietly, looking over to where their leader had disappeared into another part of the base. "He's – I don't know, distracted. He's not himself. He should be happy with the way things went today, but he's in a really bad mood."

Shrugging, Vinnie grabbed his drink. "Ah, it's because the Plutarkians got away. The old-timer's got a lot on his mind."

"Maybe," replied Carbine, not entirely convinced. "I know the war's been going on a lot longer than we hoped it would and we're having trouble keeping hold of Mars, but Stoker's always been so optimistic about our chances. He's not been like that lately."

Stoker chose that moment to re-enter the main room. "Sand storm heading our way," he announced. "Everyone stay here until it's over."

Thinking over what Carbine had said, Vinnie reflected that Stoker did seem harassed, much surlier than he usually was. As Stoker retook his seat with them, Vinnie glanced at the leader. "Something bothering you Stoke?"

"Yeah Stoke," said Throttle as he too rejoined them, finally done with arguing with the kids. "You've been acting like this for weeks."

Stoker looked around at the three, taking in the other Freedom Fighters nearby who were clearly listening in, although they were pretending not to. "You wanna know the truth bros? We're fighting a losing battle here. Even if we kick the Plutarkians off Mars tomorrow, half the planet's been strip-mined into dust. Some places, there's nothing left to fight for. Haven't heard a thing from the Government since the day the stink fish invaded."

"But there's the Freedom Fighters," said Throttle, slightly taken aback by this outburst. "We can kick their stinking butts off our planet and…"

"And then what?" Stoker pounded the table angrily. "We're still in the same position, on a dying planet, surviving on the little we can get from resources we can't afford to use up and with half the cave Mouse population already dead or prisoner… what's the point?"

"Maybe there isn't one," said Mace, walking up behind Carbine and Vinnie.

Carbine turned to face him, eyes flashing angrily. "Of course there is! Mars can be like it used to be – we can get it back! We just need to keep going!"

"No, Mace is right," said Stoker with a sigh. "Mars is finished. There's no more Mars to fight for. And you can't be a Freedom Fighter with nothing to fight for. Understand?"


	2. Stilton's Castle

**Author Note:** Thanks for the nice reviews! I'm pleased that this series is being read and enjoyed and I hope you continue to like!

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When the Plutarkian Grand high Poo-bah Lord Camembert had given the order for an invasion force to take Mars through force if the inhabitants refused to accept the bribes they had so generously offered, it had been assumed that the initial confusion would force the civilians into a panic, forcing them to flee their homes and hide, easy pickings at a later date. To further their aims, the Plutarkian forces had swarmed every known Army base on Mars and slain each and every soldier they had found. In theory, the Cave Mouse population of Mars were finished, and the other sentient races on the planet were far more pragmatic about the Golden Gills on offer.

They hadn't counted on the Cave Mice forming a rebellion – the Freedom Fighters, of all the foolishness – and resisting the invading forces. What had seemed a relatively simple extermination and takeover had turned into a war. And although the Plutarkians were gradually gaining ground, they were a long way behind their anticipated schedule. Lord Camembert was unhappy and when he was unhappy, he liked to spread the emotion around.

As the overseer of the operations on Mars, it was Dominic T. Stilton who received most of the criticism for the delay in their plans and the constant interference of the Freedom Fighters. He would suffer this indignity in silence through the medium of the video link, then upon Camembert signing off would take out his frustrations on those around him.

As the old saying goes; shit rolls downhill. And at the bottom of the metaphorical pile was Lawrence Lactavius Limburger, an ambitious Plutarkian who hoped one day to advance up the chain of command, hopefully right the way to the top. Unfortunately for him, the situation on Mars was such that Camembert was unlikely to be handing out promotions for anyone involved in the problematic mess it had turned out to be.

The political process on Plutark was intense, everyone wanting to make their way up the ladder. Those at the bottom were more than happy plotting to knock those above off their rung in order to advance and those who had furthered their careers would be equally happy to rid themselves of their up and coming competition. Trust was not a commodity highly valued on their planet and what loyalties there were came out of fear and the ingrained urge to achieve power. If power could only be gained through the rigorous traditions of the planet, then that was the way in which power was obtained – at least to outward appearances. Treachery was commonplace, it being as hazardous for a Plutarkian to face one of their peers as it was one of their enemies.

Limburger understood all this perfectly. The only thing he lacked was leverage. If he had some way of speeding up the takeover of Mars or blackening Stilton's name – or, if he dared to dream, both – he would garner the favourable attention of the High Council.

To this end, he had plundered Stilton's Swiss Cheese account in vast amounts, paying whomever he thought would be able to aid him. Sometimes it had been successful, sometimes less so. His informant, who took a lot of these payments, had given him plenty of useful information on the Freedom Fighters, their operations and where they could be expected to appear. But many of the Mice plans were done on the spur of the moment and he found it vexatious. How was he supposed to set up a brilliant counter attack with so little forewarning?

If he ever took charge of his own operation – and he intended to ensure that one day he _would_ be – then he wouldn't let a few rodents get in his way, oh no, unthinkable. And to _get_ his own operation, he had to be noticed. He needed results and he needed them now.

He had to make Brimstone fall.

In almost four years, Stilton had been unable to pull off this little task, thanks to the Freedom Fighters. If Limburger could achieve it, Stilton would be out and a new age of leadership would be ushered in. It would be the start of his ascension to the top of the food chain.

The only question was _how_ it could be achieved. That the Martians had held out this long was mystifying to Limburger, but it was clear that Stilton's overly fussy methods were not working. They were fighting dirty already – maybe what he needed to do was fight even dirtier…

It was reviewing past failures that gave him what he hoped would be the idea to defeat the Freedom Fighters, win Mars for the greater glory of Plutark and show that obnoxious Stilton just who was the better fish.

After all, the great gangsters from Earth history had gained power in both politics and the underworld simply by knowing the time to act, how to play the political game while retaining a financial stranglehold through lucrative, if illegal, dealings. And if anyone got in their way, the enemy would be ruined politically – or wasted in an entirely different way.

It was in deference to his idolised gangsters that he decided to boost his morale by looking the part, eschewing the traditional Plutarkian garb for a suit that might have been fashionable on Earth circa 1920. Just putting it on made him feel ready to conquer Mars, raise his standing within the hierarchy and finally be in the position to expose Stilton for the buffoon he was.

Standing at the window of Stilton's Castle, he looked out over the land he was soon to rule over – once his lucky break came up of course. "Ah… Mars."

"Let's see now, what is the most felicitous face for your conqueror to wear?" Limburger turned from the window and examined the rubber masks lined up before him, all extremely flexible and realistic, designed to fool the inhabitants of the Earth into believing the wearer was in fact one of them. After all, the Earth was the next planet in line after Mars and the Plutarkians were always thinking ahead.

"Ah, here's a handsome one," he mused, picking up the final one in the row, a thick-lipped, black-haired mask with an impressive set of jowls. Laughing smugly to himself, he slid it on his head, topping off the look with a rakish trilby, cigar and Tommy gun.

"Lawrence Limburger will conquer this angry red planet," he growled in his toughest voice, striking a pose. "With deceit, cunning and that pungent odour known as…" He pressed the trigger on the Tommy gun, blasting a row of bullet holes through his collection of posters, depicting his favourite gangster films of all time. …"The sweet smell of success."

"LIMBURGER! NOW!"

The shout pulled him out of his fantasy and back to the present – a present where he was not the biggest fish in the pond, but subordinate to and despised by everyone else in the Castle. And when that voice roared, it was in his best interests to jump.

For now.

"Coming sir," he said without enthusiasm, trudging off toward Stilton's office.

As the lift ascended, taking him into the office through the floor, he could overhear the tail end of the conversation between Stilton and his pet scientist Karbunkle – someone else who treated him like something unpleasant stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

"…impressive, but insufficient," Stilton was saying. "What use are so few against the frustratingly formidable Freedom Fighters?"

"I have the means of improving on that number – I merely await some more…_guinea pigs_."

The conversation between the two ceased as the lift pinged, signalling Limburger's arrival. The platform emerged from the floor but Limburger remained at feet level, grovelling his way forward.

"This on the other hand is a far less noteworthy kettle of fish," said Stilton as he regarded his fawning subordinate.

"You bellowed oh Dominic T. Stilton, greatest of Plutarkian leaders?"

"Limburger, why this tastelessly ridiculous outfit?"

"This?" Limburger glanced down at himself and noticed with chagrin that he was still clad in his gangster outfit. "Oh, this! Well, um…" He yanked at the mask, horrified to suddenly realise that somehow it had adhered to his face and refused to move.

Karbunkle rested his arm on Stilton as he leant forward, causing the germ-phobic fish to knock him away quickly and dust himself off with his ever-present handkerchief. The scientist pretended not to notice. "The locker room rollicks with ridicule over this over-ripe cheese puffs perverse preoccupation with Planet Earth's 'gangster period'."

Stilton bend, looking Limburger in the eye. "Overly ambitious, are we?"

"Oh not at all, oh vain, glorious vizier," lied Limburger. "My mask seems to be glued on!"

"Pity," sniggered Karbunkle, rubbing his hands gleefully. Limburger narrowed his eyes as he regarded the scientist. A move to make him appear foolish in front of Stilton, what else? More politics. But he bit his tongue and pretended he hadn't guessed the sabotage. He was getting the seed of an idea – and having Karbunkle on-side would be imperative to its success. Although the scientist helping him out of the good of his heart was laughable.

"You're pathetic Limburger," growled Stilton, kicking Limburger disdainfully. "Now explain to me – if you can – why Brimstone city has fallen. Well?"

Limburger grimaced as Stilton picked him up by the mask, hooking a finger up each nostril and pulling him forward. Suddenly very glad it wasn't his real face, Limburger started trying to remember the excuses he had considered so carefully since he had heard the news. "A most regrettable turn of events, totally out of my control…"

It had been easier practising the speech in front of a mirror, without Stilton's actions and Karbunkle's sniggering in the background.

"Rectify this faux pas, you lowest born of low lives. Or. ELSE!" With those sentiments, Stilton dropped Limburger and stalked off, Karbunkle trailing behind, leaving the younger fish stunned and dazed in the centre of the office.

Infuriated with the turn of events, Limburger returned to his own quarters and spoke to his informant via the vid-link – maddening how the one who called himself 'Deep Pockets' remained permanently enswathed in shadow – berating him for not taking care of the Freedom Fighters as they had arranged. But in truth, the fault lay with the Plutarkian ground troops who were no match for the Freedom Fighters, a fact that Limburger recognised.

It was while staring at his reflection in the darkened vid-screen, the mask still firmly stuck to his face, that he struck upon an idea. If the ground troops were incapable of defeating the Freedom Fighters, he would just have to call in someone who was – and ensure that Camembert knew exactly who was responsible for the final fall of Brimstone.

Unfortunately, it meant having to ask for assistance from an individual he would rather not.

On the pretext of needing something to loosen the mask, he went down to Karbunkle's lab, where the doctor was carefully adjusting the wiring in several small orbs on his desk, orbs that looked like eyes. Limburger was curious, but reminded himself of his main objective. To show Karbunkle the bait, then to reel him in.

"Oh, so sorry," said Karbunkle when Limburger asked, sounding anything but. "I'm all out of glue solvent."

"Oh, very well," said Limburger, faking reluctance, although in honesty he didn't have to fake it too much. He hated giving away his hard-embezzled money. Reaching into his jacket, he took out enough Gold Gills to keep Karbunkle in lab coats and rubber gloves for the next five years.

"It'll be shipped overnight interstellar express," said Karbunkle hurriedly, making a snatch for the cash.

Limburger yanked the Gold Gills out of reach. "But a bribe of this magnitude requires triple your usual treachery…"

"Who do I have to vaporise?"

"Oh, you misunderstand my malevolent MD! I want someone wiped in, not wiped out – a supervillain from Black Rock, right to Mars."

Karbunkle narrowed his eyes, finally succeeding in grabbing the Gold Gills from Limburger's hand. "A supervillain? What if I told you that I have something _far_ better, right here in this lab?"

"I'd say prove it."

"Come with me." Karbunkle led the way from the room they had been in to another lab beside it, a dismal, grey room not dissimilar from several others that Karbunkle used for his work. This one had more equipment lying on tables, machines that flashed or beeped – but Limburger's attention was immediately grabbed by the occupants of the room.

There were five of them, all apparently sleeping, lying on steel stretchers. Limburger examined them curiously. He had known of some of the doctors more outrageous experiments, but had never expected anything like this…

"His Dairy Creaminess believes we need more," said Karbunkle, a touch of disdain in his voice. "But just one of these will bring that rabble of Freedom Fighters to their knees."

"Oh, well done Doctor," said Limburger, the mask doing nothing to hide the malevolence in his smile. "I believe after our next attack on those vile vermin, Stilton will no longer doubt the ability of your creations."

_Not that he'll have any say in the matter,_ Limburger thought to himself gleefully. _This move will propel me to my rightful place as the top Plutarkian on this planet – and send Stilton to the belching bogs._


	3. Betrayals

The call came during the sandstorm.

A Freedom Fighter from another area, Cagiva, contacted them urgently. She had been expecting to talk to Mace and was vaguely surprised when he was joined by Stoker.

"What's up Cagiva?"

"We've heard rumours of a Plutarkian Tug Transformer located in Tharsis Rise Volcano. You're closest. Care to check it out?"

"A Tug Transformer?" Behind Stoker, Carbine was thinking at a rapid pace. "They want to pull Mars out of orbit and send it to Plutark?"

"Exactly." Cagiva looked grim. "It's just a rumour right now, but we need to know and stop it if we can. It'll take our Freedom Fighters two or three days to get there, but you're close. Think you can handle it Stoker?"

Stoker looked grim, but nodded. "Yeah. Leave it to us. We can deal."

"Great. Give us a call if you need us. We'll be there as fast as we can." Cagiva signed off and Stoker stared at the blank screen for a moment. Being the leader just never got any easier…

"To battle Freedom Fighters!"

The cheer went up from the Freedom Fighters, all ready to fight for their planet.

"The moment the storm's over, we go see what all this is about. I hope it's just a rumour… but we can't take that chance."

Mace smirked. "I'll look at the helmets; make sure the radio links are working alright."

"Thanks Mace." Stoker turned to Harley. "Think you can make sure the bikes are battle ready?"

"I'm already on it." 

"And you'll stay behind,"

Harley glared at him. "Stoker, I know I'm just a mechanic, but I can help!"

"No. You and Mace stay, we can call if we need help. We might need it after this fight." Stoker went over to her, his hand hovering over her shoulder but not quite daring to land. "You'll do best to stay here and prepare – and I wouldn't want you to get hurt."

"Stoker…" Harley looked at the floor. "This is a war and you need everyone you can get."

"Exactly. You put them back on their feet. We need you healthy." Abruptly, Stoker turned and shouted to the other Freedom Fighters. "Hope you're getting ready!"

"We were born ready!" Vinnie wrapped his tail around Carbine and pulled her close. "How about a kiss for luck?"

Carbine grinned. "I get the feeling the Vinnie luck will never run out!" Still, she kissed him directly on his lips, in full view of everyone. Vinnie blushed slightly as the other Freedom Fighters cheered and cat-called them.

"And with that inspiring image…" Throttle smirked at his friends. "Let's rock…"

"…And wait for the storm to finish," said Vinnie.

By the time the morning arrived, the storm was over and the Freedom Fighters were ready to head out and find out the truth about what the Plutarkians were up to. Mace returned their helmets, smiling slightly. "There shouldn't be any more problems."

"Wasn't aware there were problems to begin with," said Carbine as she accepted hers, giving Mace a grin to show she appreciated the help.

"Yeah, well…" Mace watched as the Freedom Fighters rode out, his smile hardening into a smirk. "You don't know anything – rookie."

Harley watched them leave, a worried frown on her face. "Mace – you ever get the feeling that something's gonna go wrong?"

"Nope," said Mace confidently. "I get the feeling that everything's gonna go according to plan."

At Tharsis Rise, there were angry words being exchanged.

"WHAT!?!" Stilton waited for the all-terrain vehicle to stop before lifting Limburger by his lapels. "You set a trap – without consulting me?!"

Limburger gasped for breath, managing to choke out his words. "Karbunkle – quickly!"

Karbunkle, in his own vehicle, motioned to the creature beside him to get out.

"You see your Rancid Regalness…" Limburger was dropped to the ground and continued his toadying at boot level. "I've even arranged for this to assure your victory!"

"_This?"_ Stilton turned on Karbunkle. "I told you there were not enough to ensure success!"

It was that moment that the Freedom Fighters arrived, blasting at both the Plutarkians and the Sand Raiders who had been commissioned as the protectors of Tharsis Rise.

Initially, the Freedom Fighters did well, demolishing gun towers, blasting the Sand Raiders, avoiding the shots that headed their way. It was a dream. Everything was going as it should, the Freedom Fighters being in control and the Plutarkians forced into retreat.

"Well, don't just stand there!" Limburger shouted at his latest acquisition. "Do something!"

Nodding, his fighter headed into the fray.

It was Denel who saw him first, zooming over to him and stopping. "Lost your bike? Jump on the pillion. We can stop these fish faces yet…."

Her words were cut short as he back-handed her, knocking her clean off her bike and dislocating her jaw in one movement. Denel landed on the ground, writhing in pain.

Ignoring her, he continued on. The fight was still ongoing, no one realising that Denel was down until Shrapnel spotted her.

"Oh no, Denel!"

He raced his bike over to her, taking no notice of the one who had caused her injury – until he got to close and was clotheslined from his bike, a blow that felt as if his windpipe had been crushed.

Stilton was getting in on the action, not trusting that Limburger could deal with it, blasting at the Freedom Fighters. And he was a good shot too, lethally good in the case of one of the Freedom Fighters, Cordite, who had her front tyre shredded out and a laser put through her back as she fought to keep control. The bike fell and its rider rolled off, bleeding out, hidden mostly by the smoke and noise of the fire fight.

Vendel covered Phantom as they tried to go after Cordite and see if there was any hope, Vendel returning fire as Phantom took a pulse and shook his head. "No use. She's gone. Stilton's gonna pay for this…"

Angered, he didn't notice Limburger's new pet until Vendel was suddenly thrown from his bike by a laser beam hitting the machine. Phantom turned and pulled his gun on the newcomer, finding himself in front of the tallest creature he had ever seen. As Vendel rose hurriedly, the shooter reached out and slammed their heads together, seemingly with no more effort than it took to clap ones hands. The pair fell into the dirt beside their deceased associate.

Limburger's pet turned its head and looked at the fight, noticing a group of three Freedom Fighters that had still not been taken down…

Stoker had taken charge of one of the Plutarkian all-terrain vehicles after disposing of its original drivers and was heading his way.

"We're outnumbered five to one!" he shouted into his helmet radio. "We've been set up!"

There was no reply.

Stoker tried again. "Hello? Can anyone hear me?"

Nothing. The helmet radios were dead. None of the Freedom Fighters could hear each other.

_But that would mean that Mace deliberately disabled them – he's a spy! And he told the Plutarkians to expect us! This is a trap!_

Meanwhile, certain Freedom Fighters were having the time of their lives. "Like we always say," said Throttle with a grin. "If you can't stop the party…"

"CRASH IT!" shouted Vinnie and Carbine in perfect unison.

They headed back into the melee, splitting up to cause further damage.

It was Throttle who noticed Limburgers new pet before the others. He gaped, pressing the button on his helmet to speak to the others by radio. "Vinnie! Vinnie! Bro, you won't believe…"

The radio was dead. Cursing his bad luck, he opened the visor on his helmet to shout to his friend…

And was hit by a laser, which missed him directly but landed in his bikes path. He was thrown off, the light burning through his eyes, rendering him almost blind.

Dimly, he realised there was something running down his face. He thought his eyes were watering, until he reached up a hand and realised that tears were rarely sticky and viscous.

He was haemorrhaging.

"THROTTLE!"

Vinnie saw his bro go down without seeing what it was that caused him to fall. He stopped blasting on the gun tower and rode as fast as he could to Throttle's side. "What the…?"

And then he saw the figure advancing on him and his eyes grew wide.

"_Modo?"_

Confused as he was, Vinnie refused to fire on Modo – his bro – but he could see that Modo was changed. Both his arms had been replaced by metallic parodies and both his eyes glowed red. It wasn't so much Modo as the cyborg version…

Modo opened fire.

Vinnie's bike was hit, throwing Vinnie from the seat and landing him on the floor. A moment later, Modo was upon him, bouncing his head on the ground. His helmet protected him to a certain degree – but Modo had a hard hit.

Vinnie lost consciousness.

"VINNIE!"

Carbine rode as fast as she could over to the tall grey mouse, whom she had never met, opening fire and aiming her laser at him. For some reason, Vinnie hadn't taken him down – but she would. No one hurt Vinnie. No one.

But Modo dodged her fire, both his arms aiming forward and blasting. Carbine continued her advance, determined that nothing would stop her getting to Vinnie – and then she felt a searing agony throughout her tail and fell off her bike, gagging as the pain made her want to vomit.

She looked back at her tail. It wasn't there.

There was a three inch stub where it should have been, the remainder lying in the dirt some distance away. One of Modo's blasts had been powerful enough to sever her tail from her body.

She felt weak, blood loss and shock keeping her down. But Modo didn't seem to care, passing by her to go after the rest of the Freedom Fighters.

And when the Plutarkians came to pick up the survivors and take them away, she was almost grateful. Someone had to end this agony… someone had to.

Stoker was lost.

There was no way to tell the Freedom Fighters that the grey mouse was not a friend. He was picking them off where ever they were. This battle was over – and they had lost.

_And if Mace is the traitor – oh no, I left him alone with Harley!_

Mind made up, Stoker rode away from the carnage, his heart heavy. There was nothing more he could do there – but the retreat left a bad taste in his mouth. He swore a silent oath to his comrades that he would be back for them, would rescue them any way he could. But defeat lay heavily on him and as he left, he was sure he could hear Stilton laughing.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Mace was acting strangely.

Harley glanced over at him several times as she worked on new inventions that would aid the Freedom Fighters in their future endeavours. He was standing over the communications desk and sniggering – at one point he laughed and smothered it. But – that had to be good news, right? The Freedom Fighters were winning!

But Mace had never acted this way over any of their other victories…

Eventually she could take no more. "Mace, what's going on?"

Mace glanced over at her, looking concerned – but Harley was suddenly sure that the concern was a sham. It was too filled with glee. "All the Freedom Fighters were captured."

"NO!" Harley ran over to the communications desk, where the information was the same as Mace had told her. "But how – why – they would have had to know we were coming!"

Mace's grin widened.

"You!" Harley backed away from Mace slowly. "You told them! You've been working for them all along!"

"That's right." Mace produced a gun from behind his back and advanced on Harley. "I've been getting a lot of Plutarkian Gold Gills for my information and this should give me the biggest payday ever! And, as the only survivor of Brimstone city, I can go to another Freedom Fighter camp and do all this all over again!"

Harley snarled. "You – _shit!_ Call yourself a mouse! You're a no-good dirty _rat_!"

Mace shrugged. "I'm a mouse all right, but a rich mouse. And about to get a whole lot richer." Carefully, he trained the gun on Harley, going for a head shot.

There was a click from behind him. "Drop the gun or you're gonna be breathing through a big damn hole in your head."

"Stoker!" Harley had to refrain from clapping her hands as Mace dropped the gun to the floor and turned enough to see Stoker holding a gun to his head.

"Better. How long have you been telling the Plutarkians about us?"

"Since I got here," smirked Mace. "What are you gonna do about it?"

"Y'know, the Freedom Fighters practice non-lethal force." Stoker shoved the gun closer to Mace's head. "But since the Freedom Fighters ain't here…"

Harley held her breath as Stoker considered the gun and Mace. Surely he wouldn't…

Instead, Stoker used the barrel of the gun, slamming it down on Mace's head and rendering him unconscious. Mace crumpled as Stoker turned to her. "I'm the only one who came back. We _need_ to get them free. Up for it?"

"I'm up for anything Stoker," she replied. "You should know _that_ by now."

They were interrupted by a bleeping from the vid-com. Stoker ran over and flicked it on, hoping for an update on the Freedom Fighters – and was rather disconcerted when he got Chopper, Rimfire and Primer instead.

"Stoker?" Chopper took in the empty base in a quick glance and frowned. "You look trashed. Where's Throttle?"

"Throttle got caught in a fire fight. We don't know…"

"Throttle's no casualty! If he's a prisoner, we'll bust him out!"

"Hang on kid; let's be smart about this…"

"Hang on nothing! If you wanna help, fine, but I'm already gone. Rimfire, Primer, you with me?"

"All the way," said Rimfire behind her as the vid-screen went to static.

Stoker slammed a fist into the desk. "Dammit! Now we've got them to worry about. Remind me never to have kids. Come on Harley, let's get our bros free."

"Why, you're including me on a mission?" Harley teased him by batting her eyelashes.

"Well… I need you babe." Stoker climbed aboard his bike.

"What about Mace?" asked Harley, getting her bag of equipment and things she had been working on.

"Leave him," replied Stoker contemptuously. "We won't be coming back here again."


	4. Prisoners

Vinnie awoke to a bright light shining in his face.

Muttering in protest, he tried to turn over to find Carbine. It was then he realised he was strapped down to the surface he was lying on – a cold, metallic surface.

Fully awake, he opened his eyes and checked out the room. _Science lab_ was the first thing that came to mind. There was equipment everywhere, machines that he couldn't begin to understand the need for.

Turning his head to the right, he saw Carbine beside him, as strapped down as he was. And something was wrong with her tail. It seemed – _shiny_?

Past Carbine, he could see the prone form of Throttle. And someone he'd never seen before, messing around with Throttle's face.

"Hey!" he shouted, not liking where his thoughts were taking him. "Leave him alone!"

"I was merely replacing his eye," said the doctor, advancing on Vinnie. "You're awake! This is marvellous!"

Vinnie scowled. "Why?"

"To become a member of my cyborg army, I need to insert this chip." The doctor showed him a piece of computer hardware, no bigger than a stamp. "And I can't do it while you're unconscious – it needs to know when you're awake. Congratulations, you're the first volunteer."

"Volunteer?" Vinnie sneered. "I'm not volunteering!"

"This is – mandatory." The doctor pulled his stretcher, which seemed to be on wheels, away from the others. "My name is Doctor Karbunkle. And you shall never forget it, since I am to be your new master!"

"I don't call anyone master!" yelled Vinnie, struggling to get out of his bonds. "Well, maybe Carbine and only on her birthday… let me _go_!"

Karbunkle produced a scalpel and Vinnie grew very still. "Don't worry," said Karbunkle gleefully. "I just want to cut you open and add something to your brain!"

_He wouldn't cut my face_ thought Vinnie desperately as the scalpel hovered near his nose. _He can't – he wouldn't…_

The scalpel bit in beside his right eyebrow, digging deep, biting through muscles and nerves, releasing blood.

Vinnie screamed.

&&&&&&&&&&

Carbine awoke to the sounds of Vinnie screaming.

She was immediately alert, realising they were prisoners, that something terrible was happening.

"NO!" she shrieked, struggling against her bonds. "VINNIE!"

Her only answer was more screams.

She raised her head and saw Vinnie on a table ahead of her, a doctor slicing into his face. But the doctor was – grinning?

And there was blood. Spattering Vinnie's white fur and the doctors formerly pristine labcoat, there was blood. Vinnie's blood.

"VINNIE!"

"Carbine…" His response was so quiet, she thought she might have imagined it. Then he started to scream again as the doctor pressed the scalpel further into his face, having got to his cheek.

"Shut up! I need to concentrate!" The doctor gave her a malevolent grin. "Unless you want me to put this through his brain…"

Carbine stopped talking, her mouth becoming a thin line. And Vinnie continued to scream.

"_Hey!"_

She recognised Throttle's voice from beside her and turned her head as far as she could. "Throttle – shush!"

The screaming continued.

"He's hurting Vinnie!" Throttle thrashed against his restraints. "We have to stop him!"

"_I know!"_ Carbine felt the tears escaping her eyes. "I know… but I can't get free, you can't get free and Vinnie is…" She tried to hold back her tears, but Vinnie's screams of agony made it impossible.

"What's he doing to him?" asked Throttle. "I can't see – it's all a blur…"

"As far as I can see, cutting off his face," said Carbine tearfully.

"His_face_?" Throttle strained up as much as he could do. "Hey, doctor! Come over here and leave Vinnie alone!"

Karbunkle smirked. "I'll be seeing to you too – after the lady of course."

"No…." Vinnie managed to choke out. His face was a mess. The right half had been almost totally removed, blood running over the remainder and onto his torso. "You don't touch… _her_."

Karbunkle smirked. "Are you really in a position to make demands?"

And then he started cutting again.

&&&&&&&&&

Stoker stared at Stilton's castle through his binoculars. "This is gonna be one tough fish to scale."

He was distracted by the sound of falling rocks. "What the hell…?"

"Can't be the kids," said Harley. "It'd take them at least a day to get here, no matter how fast they rode!"

As if to call her a liar, a mouse ran into the clearing, barrelling headlong into Stoker. Harley gasped. "Rimfire?"

"I told you to let us handle this!" said Stoker, annoyed.

"You've been sold out, one of your troops is trading info with the Sand Raiders."

"We know." Harley gave him a rueful glance. "How did you get here so fast? Where are Primer and Chopper?"

Rimfire had the grace to look abashed. "Um, we were kinda in the neighbourhood. Choppy and Primer are … around."

"Find them! We're gonna need them." Harley smiled over at Stoker. "We can't do it alone and the kids are here – they're good too."

Stoker threw up his hands in disgust. "Yeah! Little kids to do a military mission! That'll end well!"

"Do we have a choice?"

Stoker glared at Rimfire. "Fine. Find 'em and you do _exactly_ as I say. Understand?"

"Yes sir!" Rimfire ripped off a salute and headed off.

Three minutes later he returned, Chopper and Primer behind him. "What do we do?"

"Guard the perimeter," Stoker told him. "We'll be inside."

As Stoker vanished with Harley, Rimfire tried some ninjitsu kicks while Chopper and Primer sat on a rock. "Man," sighed Primer. "Sixteen and we're still sitting at the kids table!"

Stoker and Harley snuck into the castle, guns at the ready. They went undetected by the Plutarkian guards, but imagined their luck wouldn't hold out for long, not after they tried to break out the Freedom Fighters…

A scream rang out through the corridors.

"That's Vinnie," said Stoker, looking sick and afraid.

"I know." Harley's expression hardened. "We have to get him out. We have to get them _all_ out."

"Let's go."

They followed the corridor in the direction the screaming had come from, eventually coming to two doorways. Cautiously, Stoker opened the first. Within was row after row of steel tables – and upon them, the Freedom Fighters.

"You found them!"

Stoker turned, snarling. Behind him, Rimfire, Primer and Chopper were peeking over his shoulder.

"I told you kids to stay outside!"

"Um… we didn't hear?" Primer did her best to look innocent.

"Whatever." Stoker hadn't been able to get the scream out of his head. "You three get everyone out of here. Harley, come with me. We've got to find the rookies. They're not here."

Rimfire, Primer and Chopper piled into the room, Primer finding the control for the restraints and blasting it with one shot of her gun. The Freedom Fighters were released.

Although not in good shape.

Denel, unable to speak, began shaking the Freedom Fighters that were still lying comatose. Too quickly, she found half of them unconscious. Frustrated with her inability to communicate, she tried to tell Chopper about it through hand gestures.

"We just need to get them out!" Chopper indicated to the way they came in. "Get the mice that can walk and have them carry the others!"

"We're heading to Alternate Post 14," Rimfire told the Fighters who had made it to their feet and were helping the others.

Denel nodded, hooking her arm around Vendel and dragging him to his feet. The other Freedom Fighters got the idea and helped their injured comrades.

"Go!" Primer indicated to the door and the Freedom Fighters left as fast as they could.

"Shouldn't we be following?" asked Rimfire.

"Screw that!" said Chopper forcefully. "I need to know that Throttle is okay. We go after Stoker and Harley."

"I don't think so."

The three mice turned slowly at the sound of the voice, Chopper impatient, Rimfire and Primer filled with dread. There was only one person with that voice…

Rimfire stared at the newcomer, unable to believe his eyes.

"_Uncle Modo?"_

&&&&&&&&&&

Stoker hit the door hard, rolling into the room and blasting. Harley was right behind him, her own gun raised and shooting.

Karbunkle dropped the scalpel, raising his arms in a gesture of surrender – then running for his life. Gunfire followed him but almost miraculously, he avoided being killed, leaping through a grating in the floor and getting away.

Plutarkians piled through the door. Stoker dispatched them with his gun, sending them fleeing. From the corner of his eye, he could see Harley running for the controls, to release the three trapped mice.

The moment she was free from her restraints, Carbine leapt from the metal table and raced over to Vinnie, who still hadn't moved. She stared down at his gore-coated face, willing him to be alive.

"Vinnie…"

She leaned down and kissed his mouth, unaware of the tears that she shed. "Please be okay Vinnie… I'm so sorry, please… be okay."

Vinnie's eyes remained determinedly closed, but his muscles were tensed, his teeth gritted, his fists gripped tightly. He was alive – but she could tell he was in severe agony.

_And his face…_

Harley approached her. "I have an anaesthetic here. Let me give it to him. It'll put him out of his pain."

"Please…" Carbine looked at her would-be rival, wide eyed. "You can help him?"

"I hope so." Harley's face was grim as she pulled out the needle and injected it into Vinnie's neck.

For a few moments, there was no response. Then, almost imperceptibly, his muscles relaxed, his fists unclenching.

Carbine leant over him. "Vinnie?"

Vinnie's eyes blinked open. "Sweetheart! Looking good!"

"He might be doped for a few minutes," explained Harley.

Carbine helped Vinnie to his feet. "We gotta get out of here."

Harley spent a moment or so tying a bandage around his face, giving Carbine a curious look. "Um… have you noticed any pain yourself?"

"Not really." Carbine had noticed a dull ache in her tail but had been too worried about Vinnie to give it any thought.

"Right. Because – I hate to tell you this, but um... your tail is…"

Carbine turned to look at her tail and went cold. Her normal tail was gone. Instead, she had a length of metal in the shape of her tail, somehow attached to her. She gave an experimental twitch. The metallic tail twitched too.

For a moment, she was about to lose it, run screaming about her loss. Then she felt Vinnie's comforting weight leaning on her. He _needed_her to stay strong. She could have her freakout later.

"Hey babe," said Vinnie, a wide grin on his face. "You look ready to –_whip tail_!" He broke into hysterical laughter.

"He can't help it," said Harley quickly. "It should wear off soon."

"It never wears off with Vinnie," said Carbine, still trying to get used to having a metal tail. She pulled him toward the door when she realised a metal bunker in the corner was bulging.

"Our bikes!"

Stoker blasted the lock off the door and the three bikes emerged, rolling up to their riders. Taking a glance at Throttle, Stoker suddenly realised that he didn't look too good.

"Can you see?"

"I – yeah, kind of." Throttle blinked slightly. "It's all – like looking through a heat seeker. All greens and reds."

"Shit." Stoker looked closer at Throttle. "I think your eye – your right eye – um, I think it's artificial."

"_Artificial?"_Throttle put his hands over his eyes. "Man, if I could see normally…"

There was a whine from Throttle's head and he groaned aloud, then blinked, taking his hands from his face. "I can – almost see?"

"Almost?"

"Everything's so pale…"

"Try these." Stoker took off his field specs and handed them to Throttle. "The polar whiteout should help."

Throttle put on the shades and checked it out. "Yeah, that's better. I can see where I'm going now."

"Stoker!" Vinnie looked in his direction and saluted, Carbine rolling her eyes. "My hero!"

"Vinnie," said Carbine quietly. "Shut up!"

"Carbie?"

"Please don't call me that."

"You've got a great butt," said Vinnie, smirking wider.

"You too Vinnie," she said with a sigh. "How long is this gonna last? The last thing I need is a sedated smart mouth."

At that moment, the door opened and Rimfire, Primer and Chopper walked through, their hands in the air.

"Sorry Stoker," said Rimfire apologetically.

Towering over them was the gigantic form of Modo, both arms aimed at the teens, ready to shoot if they didn't comply. It was the first time they had got a good look at him, save for in the heat of the battlefield. As they had already realised, both of his arms had been replaced by metal ones, both equip with guns which were currently trained on the three teenagers. Both eyes glowed red, suggesting that they were not the ones he had been born with. Around the right side of his face was a vaguely circular scar that cut from ear to eyebrow and around his cheek, mostly healed over although no fur grew there. The only way they could identify easily that it was Modo was his grey fur and the sheer size and muscular build he retained.

"_Modo!"_ Vinnie grinned at his old friend. "Looks like you're well-armed – well armed! Get it? I'm killing myself here!"

"Vinnie?" Carbine spoke through gritted teeth. " Please don't talk anymore."

Modo looked at them, his eyes shining red. "Get into the locker."

"You didn't sell out to the fish Modo," said Throttle quietly. "What happened?"

"Get in the locker."

"They brainwashed him – well, I always knew he had a dirty mind," said Vinnie, going into more gales of laughter. "That's what they were doing to me! See the cuts? Brain bugs! He's gone buggy!"

Carbine was close to cracking when she took a second look at Modo and realised that Vinnie was right. Modo had a scar, barely noticeable but still there, over his nose and around his eye. Someone had reattached the skin and fur after he had the part removed – and it seemed likely that person was Karbunkle.

"Get in the locker."

Letting Vinnie stand on his own feet, Carbine stepped forward, taking the biggest chance of her life. "You can't do it."

Modo swung his head to look at her.

"You can't shoot your own family in cold blood. You can't hurt Rimfire or Primer." She only hoped he felt the same about Chopper. "Let us go Modo."

"For Plutark…" He swung his arm cannons in her direction.

Not thinking, she whipped her tail around and wrapped it around his feet, expecting to knock him off balance. But she had forgotten the metal tail, which was far more powerful than the one she was born with. It pulled Modo off his feet, dropping him to the floor.

Immediately, Stoker and Harley retrieved their dropped weapons, Rimfire, Primer and Chopper pulling spares to replace the ones they had dropped in the next room. All five were trained on Modo.

Modo glared up at them, obviously judging his chances of taking them down before they could get him and not liking them. The cannons in his arms retracted and he sat, raising hands in the universal gesture of surrender.

"Get in the locker," said Stoker grimly.

"Wait." Throttle stepped forward slightly, concentrating – and with a whine that made his head hurt, his new left eye altered to the spectrums of heat. Taking off the shades, he glanced over Modo. The mouse had been mechanically engineered in his arms, no doubt about that – but there was something else, not giving off the same heat signature as the rest of his brain.

"Vinnie's right, there's something in his mind making him follow Plutarkian orders."

"We're not in a position to take him with us and find him a good surgeon Throttle," said Stoker sharply. "Even if taking it out _is_ possible." He gestured for Modo to get into the locker and slowly, Modo pulled himself to his feet and headed toward where the bikes had been imprisoned.

"Hey Modo," said Vinnie conversationally, grinning widely. "If you got the inside word on the Plutarkians, you can tell us if they really do got a Tug Transformer, right?"

Modo paused and glared, but didn't respond.

"I gotta warn you," continued Vinnie, from the corner of his mouth as if sharing a secret, almost laughing. "My lady here, she's got a really short temper – and she's having a really _bad_ day."

Narrowing his eyes at Vinnie, Modo nodded.

"In Tharsis Rise Volcano?" asked Stoker.

Again, Modo nodded.

"In the locker." Stoker frowned as Modo walked into the locker and Rimfire dashed forward to bolt him in. Briefly, the young mouse leaned his forehead against the cold metal and closed his eyes. He had hoped for so long that his Uncle Modo was alive and now they were leaving him here, under brainwashing by the Plutarkians…

"We'll get him back Rimfire," said Primer, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"That's a promise," added Chopper grimly.

"Come on," said Carbine. "We've got to get out of here and regroup, before any more Plutarkians land on us."

"Agreed," said Stoker, whistling for his bike. "We've got to get the Freedom Fighters patched up. Then we can figure out what to do about the Tug Transformer."

"And what to do about Modo," added Throttle, staring at the steel door which he suspected wouldn't hold the big grey mouse for long.

_Sorry big guy,_ he thought as the group raced out of the room on their bikes. _It's only temporary – we'll get you away from here. I promise._


	5. Aftermath

Vinnie was avoiding her.

Carbine knew it. And she knew why. It wasn't anything about her tail or her attitude. It was his face. He was hiding it from her.

It hurt her. She wasn't some fair-weather girl who was with him for his looks. She loved him and she knew that he knew that…

And she knew _him_. He was convinced he was no longer good enough for her, no longer fit to be in society. That he was a freak. That he was ugly. He'd always been justifiably proud of his looks and in his mind, they were gone. The first thing that would get noticed about him now were the scars from the horrific wound and that was a crushing blow to his pride.

She wanted to go to him, to tell him she loved him, that it wasn't the outside of him that counted but the person she knew he was inside. But he would never accept that. He would think she pitied him and would reject the supposed emotion angrily. He would reject _her_.

She didn't think she could take that right now.

So she sat at the entrance of Alternate post 14, looking out, watching him ride. He was tearing up the landscape, obviously furious and upset. Beneath his helmet, his face was a mess of bandages. He was feeling little physical pain thanks to Harley's medicine – but he _was_ in pain. Pain from knowing he was marked now.

And this was one problem she couldn't solve with logic or planning. She didn't know how to address this one.

Her own tail had been looked at and pronounced permanent. The one she was born with was gone forever, no sign of it and no way to reattach it. But she had this new, stronger one. She had been told she was lucky.

She didn't feel lucky.

Throttle sat inside, wondering about his eyes. His left had been replaced, but his right seemed to be his own. The right had a horribly burned retina and without the field specs, he couldn't see anything through it. Like an Osmond in a snowstorm. All white.

The left however was another story. It had proven its worth as a heat seeker and a normal eye. Further tests showed him it also magnified, like looking through a microscope. But he had no wish to continue the experiments. Every time it changed functions, it made a whining sound right inside his head that made him cringe and reminded him that he was doomed to this for the rest of his life.

"Mirror on the handlebars…"

Vinnie looked at himself in the mirror. He looked good. Until he moved his head so the right side was in view. The wound had leaked and blood had seeped through the bandages. Only a few drops, but he could see them perfectly well.

"Who's the studliest mouse on Mars?" He tried for a sardonic chuckle, then felt rage well up inside him. He was... he was…

_A freak and Carbine won't want to look at me without shuddering and mice will only look at me to laugh…_

He knocked the mirror from the bike and rested his head on the bars. The bike wisely chose not to protest.

The other Freedom Fighters were in various states. Denel glared moodily at a wall, able to walk and her jaw reset with one quick wrench, held with bandages. Vendel and Phantom had matching, ugly bruises on their heads and various assorted minor injuries. Shrapnel's throat was a livid red beneath the fur and he was unable to speak above a croak. Redstone had a gash that had taken a lot of stitches and bandages, leading down from one shoulder and across his torso to his stomach on the other side. Any deeper and it could have been fatal. Jumo, who seemed to have aged decades in hours, had broken an arm in three places and wasn't going to be any fight for the foreseeable future, maybe ever again. Afterburn was dealing with a broken ankle and a flash burn over one arm that had taken off most of his fur there. He too was out of the fight.

And Cordite was dead.

"I know it's not the best time," said Stoker. "But we gotta plan what to do about the Tug Transformer."

Throttle shrugged. "What's the point?"

"Can't and don't wanna try." Vinnie started the bike and headed off again.

Carbine looked at him through saddened eyes. "It's pointless."

Stoker gave Harley a glance from the corner of his eye and she gave an almost imperceptible nod, taking off. Stoker approached Throttle and sat opposite him.

"You can see," said Stoker suddenly.

Throttle looked up at him. "Yeah, just. I'd be out of the Army…"

"There is no Army," Stoker said harshly. "There's us and that's it. You give up now; you doom us to be hovering around Plutark. No matter how bad you feel now, you'll feel worse with their stink in your nose."

"But we failed…"

"No. We were tricked. Won't happen again."

Throttle tried to smile. "Thought you were getting sick of the war Stoker."

"I am." Stoker stood. "But you talked me around when I wanted to quit and now it's my turn. You were right."

Carbine was standing at the exit when she felt the hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Harley stood behind her.

"What is it?"

"This." Harley showed her what looked like flexible metal. "It'll protect his wound and be a cosmetic cover. But… I think you should give it to him."

Carbine sighed. "Why? He wants his face back, not some damn mask."

"You can't give him that – but this is the next best thing."

"But…"

"Carbine." Harley smiled. "Let me tell you something about men. Appeal to their vanity and most of the battle is won. Vinnie's afraid of being pitied, after being the centre of attention for so long, you know how he thinks, better than I do. He loves you, anyone can tell – and he'll thank you. Go do it."

Carbine took the substance in her hands. It wasn't liquid, more like a strange hybrid between liquid and solid that she could hold onto but slipped between her fingers if she tilted her hand.

"You might wanna be quick with that," said Harley with a smile, turning to leave.

"Wait," said Carbine hurriedly. "Thank you."

Harley put her hand on Carbine's shoulder. "Anything for young love."

Carbine left the cave, realising the sound of Vinnie's bike had ceased. He was sat on it nearby, staring out at nothing.

"Hey hotshot."

Vinnie turned and gave her a weak smile. "Oh. Hey babe."

"Take off that helmet."

Vinnie sighed; closing his eyes briefly, but took it off and looked her full in the face. Half of it was unmarked, the other hid by the bandages.

"Do you mind if I…?" She put out her hands to unwrap the bandages.

"Hah! No!" He lied through his teeth. "I mean – half impressed is better than not impressed at all, right?"

Carbine looked at the wound, careful not to let her expression change from flirty good humour. But she silently vowed that the day she caught Karbunkle was the day he would lose his life. Slowly. Painfully. And at her hands.

Vinnie broke into her thoughts of revenge. "Sweetheart, I appreciate the thought…"

"You haven't even_ begun_ to appreciate what I can do." She put the metal plate to his face, allowing it to flow over his ear and cover the wound. "Good for the occasional mouse makeover…"

Vinnie checked out his mirror, the one he hadn't slammed from the bike, a grin breaking across his face. "Sweetheart!"

"To make you feel better," said Carbine, stroking his face. "Because your face isn't what's important to me. You are."

Vinnie stood, wrapping his arms around Carbine. "Girl, I... um, y'know... you're the best… you're…"

"Vin?" Carbine leaned up and put her face close to his. "I know."

Vinnie kissed her, running a hand through her hair and wrapping his other arm around her waist, just enjoying the moment. Until there was a cough from the cave mouth, obviously to distract them.

Stoker leant against the wall, tail swishing. "Ready to go back to fight rookies?"

Vinnie gave him a grin. "Stoker?"

"Yeah?"

"Piss off, I'm busy."

And then he went back to his girl while Stoker rolled his eyes and went back into the cave.

"Did it work?" asked Harley.

"It worked." Stoker looked skyward. "Save me from those kids…"

"Oh Stoke," laughed Harley. "You have no romance in your soul."

Stoker gave her a long look. "You think?"

"Well…" Harley took a step over to him and put her arms around his waist. "Maybe I can teach you."

"I'm a slow learner," said Stoker quickly.

"I'm a good teacher." Harley grinned, wrapping her tail around Stoker.

"Um… I'm going to bed," said Throttle from the corner.

"It's the middle of the day," said Harley with a devilish smirk.

"Okay…" Throttle sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I'll go out!"

"Trust me, you don't wanna do that," said Stoker.

Throttle threw his hands into the air. "Jeez, I have to get a girl – just to get away from you all!"

He stalked further away, hoping that no matter what anyone did, he wouldn't hear it. Passing by Chopper, Rimfire and Primer, he was aware of them gathered around the Vid-screen, talking to someone.

Chopper turned and looked at him, a slightly guilty look on her face. "Um, Throttle, it's your mom."

_Oh hell _thought Throttle, suddenly glad that his injuries weren't as visible as Vinnie's. He might be an adult now, but his mother was still overprotective, much to the amusement of the other Freedom Fighters.

"Hi mom," he said, pushing past the twins to look into the screen.

Altezza looked at him, a slight frown creasing her face, but she tried to smile. "Sunglasses indoors? What you young people will do to look cool."

"Yeah… cool."

"I've been trying to get through ever since we found the kids have taken off – parents worry when their children run off," she added pointedly. Throttle winced. She still hadn't forgiven him for that. "And now all I'm getting is static."

"We're – having some problems with our communications expert," said Throttle in the understatement of the century. "Look, Chopper's safe with me – Rimfire and Primer too, if you can pass it on to Ballista."

"Of course they are dear," said Altezza with a warm smile that made Throttle feel slightly bad about his earlier irritation with her. "Just don't let them get away with too much."

"I won't mom," said Throttle, giving her a smile and remembering exactly why he was fighting in the war. To protect the planet and all the mice on it, especially those nearest to him.

"Deep Pocket?"

"That's me."

"What's going on with the Freedom Fighters?"

A chuckle. "They're at Alternate Post 14. Stoker forgot I could track them. You want me to tell you where it is – it'll cost."

"Name your price."

Mace smirked, his good humour restored. The Freedom Fighters might have caught him out once – but never again. And there was going to be only one winner in this war.

Him.


	6. Under Attack

The mice were still in the process of patching up their various injuries and attempting a recovery when a blast rocked Alternate Post Fourteen. Stoker steadied himself momentarily, looking toward the entrance and cursing under his breath. "What now?"

Carbine ducked in from outside, snagging her gun from where she had left it by the mouth of the cave where she had stood to watch Vinnie. "We're under attack. Plutarkians."

"Can't we ever catch a break?" muttered Stoker, grabbing his own weapon as the Freedom Fighters rose, ready to fight. Several of them whistled for their bikes, further back in the cave.

"Harley, stay back and keep an eye on the kids," ordered Stoker. Rimfire, Primer and Chopper immediately began to protest the decision, only for Stoker to ignore them and ride his own bike out of the cave, joining the rest of the Freedom Fighters at the mouth of the cave and looking out over the horizon. Sure enough, a convoy of Plutarkian all-terrain vehicles were heading toward them at high speed, followed by Sand Raiders as backup. And leading the charge...

"Mace." Stoker narrowed his eyes in anger. He had suspected that the traitor would make some move against them - but what else was he supposed to do? The only way to stop him would have been to shoot him down; it wasn't as if they had been in the position to take him prisoner. Instead, he had shown Mace some mercy and now they were paying for it.

Mace pulled up his motorbike and swung something toward them. Stoker realised it was a missile gun a moment too late to shout a warning; the missile hit the cave above the Freedom Fighters, showering rocks down on them. Immediately, the mice rode in their separate directions, ready to fight. Carbine, Throttle and Vinnie rode directly at a group of Plutarkians, opening fire. The Plutarkians were forced to bail out as the blasts hit their vehicles, blowing them into pieces. As soon as they were dispatched the three peeled off in different directions, planning to get behind the invaders.

Vinnie rode over a rock, jumping it in order to get further ahead - and as he landed, a laser blast hit the back of his bike, knocking him over the handlebars. Turning, he noticed a Sand Raider taking aim at him once more and pulled out his own gun, dodging a blast of fire and shooting, hitting the missile launcher and causing it to blow up in the Sand Raiders face. "What, little old showstopper me?" he said with a grin, twirling his gun around his finger, taking a brief moment to show off before he got back into the fray... and then a tail lashed against his wrist, sending the arm numb up to the elbow and knocking the gun from his grip.

Turning hurriedly, his heart sank as he realised who he was about to go up against. "Modo?"

"Nice performance, little bro," growled Modo, raising both arms and taking aim at Vinnie. Vinnie leapt backward, twisting easily out of the way of the lasers and rushing forward to punch Modo in the chin. Modo barely flinched and Vinnie dived sideways out of reach of those metal arms, trying to shake some feeling back into his hand.

"Come on Modo," said Vinnie urgently. "You can fight this - you don't want to be some Plutarkian lapdog for the rest of your life!"

In response, Modo raised his arms and fired with both barrels, Vinnie diving out of the way as the lasers cut easily through the rock...

_And since when was Modo this bad a shot? _

Another laser came perilously close, singeing his tail and Vinnie yelped, grabbing his injured appendage and wishing that Modo really _was_ a bad shot. Looking around as he ducked another barrage of fire, he saw that Throttle and Carbine were busy with the Plutarkians, the other Freedom Fighters all in the midst of battle He was on his own.

Within Alternate Post Fourteen, Harley was trying to persuade Rimfire, Primer and Chopper to remain within. It wasn't an easy task. The three teenagers were desperate to be a part of the action.

"Remind me never to have kids," she said out of the corner of her mouth to Afterburn, who had also been left behind thanks to his shattered ankle. Afterburn smothered a laugh and let Harley turn back to the kids. "Look, you'll get your licks in soon enough. But leave this to the pros, alright?"

"Yeah. Good suggestion."

Harley turned quickly as Mace stepped out of the shadows. She had forgotten about the other entrance, forgotten that Mace would know where it was. Afterburn raised his weapon and Mace whipped his tail out, wrapping it around Primer and pinning her hands to her sides, pulling her in front of him as a living shield.

"Drop it," snapped Mace, putting his own gun beneath Primer's chin. Reluctantly, Afterburn threw his weapon aside and Rimfire and Chopper glared impotently as Harley stepped in front of them in a vain attempt to protect them.

"Thanks." Mace smirked, then without warning took his gun from Primer's chin and shot Afterburn in the chest. The mouse was thrown backwards, blood spurting from the wound in his chest and a choking, rattling sound emerging from his mouth as he struggled to breath through the gore rising in his throat.

In perfect unison, Harley, Primer and Chopper screamed. Harley went to rush to Afterburn's side in the hope that there was something she could do, but Mace returned the gun to its previous place under Primer's chin.

"Stay put."

Anguished, Harley hesitated. But intellectually, she knew there was nothing more she could do for Afterburn and that Primer's life was at stake. She stayed where she was.

Outside the cave, Vinnie continued to use his natural agility to his advantage, dodging Modo's blasts, which were coming too fast for him to launch an effective counter attack. All he could do was to keep moving and hope for the best.

Throttle dispatched a Sand Raider vehicle and glanced over to where Vinnie was attempting to make an escape. With no immediate threat, it looked as though he could zoom over and lend a hand to subdue the giant grey mouse...

And then the sound of screams filled the air. Across the battlefield, Stoker's head shot up as he was distracted, a nearby Plutarkian taking advantage long enough to knock him from his bike. But Throttle was less concerned by the sound of Harley's shriek than by the more easily recognisable one that joined it.

"Chopper!"

He revved his engine and took off for the cave. The screams caused both Vinnie and Modo to look toward the mouth of the cave, Vinnie recovering first and diving for his gun, back to his feet in an instant and leaping backward onto a rock. But a second later, Modo blasted it from beneath him and Vinnie was thrown to the floor, breath knocked out of him, trying to get his bearings back and preparing for Modo to hit him with a shot - but it didn't happen.

As Vinnie craned his neck to see what was going on, he realised that Modo was gone.

Mace backed out of the cave, Primer still in his grip, Harley, Rimfire and Chopper following cautiously and looking for a chance to grab Primer away. Mace shoved the gun further into the young mouse's chin. "Back up."

"You're not taking my sister anywhere," growled Rimfire.

"Yeah," added Chopper. "You mess with one of us; you mess with all of us!"

"Fine." Mace swung the gun out rapidly, before any of them realised what he was doing, and blasted at the rock at Chopper's feet. She was standing dangerously close to the edge and the rock crumbled beneath her, sending her plummeting down. Before she had fallen, Mace had the gun pointing at Primer's temple, chuckling to himself.

Rimfire threw himself forward, grabbing Chopper by the sleeve, his grip all too tenuous. "Quick, take my other hand!"

Chopper tried to swing her hand up to meet Rimfire's, but the sudden movement caused her sleeve to tear. Her fingers brushed Rimfire's and then with a shriek of alarm, she was falling.

Noticing that Mace was distracted, Primer chose that moment to sink her teeth into his forearm. Mace yelped, his arm jerking involuntarily, his finger squeezing the trigger. A laser shot by Primer's face, close enough so that she could feel the heat of it. Snarling, Mace shoved her aside, unwinding his tail from her and giving her sideways movement greater momentum. Primer was flung from the rock face, at the opposite side to where Chopper fell.

Looking for something that would save her from becoming pavement pizza, Chopper saw Throttle arrive at the foot of the cave and head straight up, coming for her. Lashing her tail out, she caught onto his tail as he sped past, letting him flip her expertly onto the back of his bike.

"Did you see the way I flipped onto the bike doing a sheer vertical?" she asked excitedly.

Throttle sighed. "Remind me to never have kids."

Primer flew straight out, headfirst, swan-diving toward the ground - and no one there to catch her. She was falling too far from the rock to grab purchase with her tail and there was no time to come up with a plan...

Someone caught her a second before she hit the floor.

The breath was knocked out of her, pain blooming where she hit the arms of her rescuer, arms that were much too solid to be flesh and blood. Still, she thought slightly dizzily, she'd rather be bruised than dead. And then she looked up and realised that her catcher was her Uncle Modo. His glowing red eyes seemed to bore right into her and she caught her breath, wondering if she had been freed from one captor only to be taken hostage again.

Without a word, Modo set her to her feet and strode away.

As he reached the mouth of the cave Throttle didn't pause. Instead, he leapt the bike so that it passed directly over Mace's head, knocking the traitor down. The gun skittered from his hands and across the rocks, where Rimfire made a grab for it.

A further explosion rocked the area and Mace used the distraction to head off, back into the cave. Harley made as if to follow him, but Throttle hit the brakes right in front of where she would have to pass, stopping her. "Let someone else handle it," he said. "You don't even have a decent weapon."

"He's getting away - he killed Afterburn!"

"Afterburn's dead?" Throttle set his mouth in a grim line. "Chopper, get off the bike. I've got me a traitor to catch."

Chopper jumped off the bike just as Stoker's voice came through over the helmet radios. "Freedom Fighters - they're trying to take us out while we're weak, distract us. That means that the Tug Transformer is being set up now. Take out these guys and get to Stilton's Castle, pronto. We're gonna stop his plans."

Throttle spoke into his own radio. "But Stoke, Mace is getting away..."

"Mace isn't the priority, Mars is."

Sighing, Throttle leapt his bike off the cave and rejoined the fight. Mace would just have to wait - and there wasn't too much more trouble the mouse could cause if he was running from the scene.

"Harley," continued Stoker through the radio. "Take the kids and get the hell away from here."

"But Jumo's still in the cave," she reminded him.

"And under heavy anaesthetic, the fight hasn't even woken him," Stoker added. "He'll be fine and you can't carry him along with you."

Harley thought for a moment, realising that Stoker was right about Jumo being well hidden and unlikely to be discovered. And then she recalled something else that was hidden in Alternate Post Fourteen. "I'll have the kids out of here right away," she replied, shutting off the radio and listening to Rimfire and Chopper protest, Primer joining them a moment later after having to climb back up the rock to the mouth of the cave. "Hush," she said, a sly smile on her lips. "Do you want to help me stop this Tug Transformer or not?"

The teenagers exchanged high fives. "Oh yeah!" announced Chopper happily.

The four of them watched as the Freedom Fighters dispatched the last of the Plutarkian forces and without a pause, rode hell for leather into the distance, going towards Stilton's Castle in an attempt to stop the Tug Transformer. "Rimfire," said Primer in a quiet voice that was a million miles away from her usual confident tones. "Did you see how I landed?"

"Well, no," admitted Rimfire. "By the time I got over there, you were already just standing on the ground. Did one of the Freedom Fighters grab you?"

"It was Uncle Modo," replied Primer. "He caught me before I could hit the ground. He saved my life and then he just – left."

"And that means that there's still something left of Uncle Modo," said Rimfire determinedly. "We have to do what we can to get that chip out of him."

"Easier said than done," said Chopper.

"We'll find a way," said Primer, clenching her fists. "My Uncle Modo's being held a prisoner in his own head – but he's fighting it! That means there must be something we can do!"

Rimfire looked around at the sprawled, groaning Plutarkian forces. "Hey, where is Uncle Modo anyway?"

The four of them did a scan of the area, but the giant grey mouse was nowhere to be seen. "Come on," said Harley eventually. "We'd better get moving. There's nothing more we can do here. And we have other priorities right now." Rimfire and Primer nodded, not happy but willing to accept this. There was nothing they could actually do for Modo until they found him.

&&&&&&&&

Stilton was shocked to find his castle under attack. His plan had been to wipe the Freedom Fighters from the face of Mars with a sneak attack when they were at their most vulnerable physically and somewhere they thought the Plutarkians couldn't know about, hence the ambush on Alternate Post Fourteen. He hadn't envisioned that the Mice might actually win the fight, or that they would return to the castle so shortly after being freed from it. Yet there they were, blasting at the minimal security that remained to protect their base of operations, whooping and cheering like they expected to succeed.

And yet – they still might. Stilton had strategically arranged for the attack using some of their best fighters and most of the remainder of his army was guarding the Tug Transformer at Tharsis Rise. That left the castle under defended – he hadn't expected the return of the Freedom Fighters even if they were able to survive the sneak attack.

Watching the monitors, he felt panic rising up within him as the vehicles the Plutarkians drove were decimated, the troops forced to run and hide, the mice firing lasers around until the whole area looked like a big light show. Their army was woefully outclassed – by a bunch of injured mice? And there were injuries; he could see bandages and bruises on all the mice. So how were they mounting this attack?

The first mouse shot his way through the doors, followed by others. On the screen, Stilton heard the crash, echoed by the same noise a fraction of a second later from within the castle itself. The mice were in. Abandoning the vid-screens, Stilton fled in the direction of the lab and the Tug Transformer controls. There was still something he could salvage from this, he told himself urgently. But he had to start the Tug Transformer. The mice could chase their own tails trying to stop it, but there was no way that it could be stopped. And once in orbit around Plutark, there would be all the backup he needed to take care of the filthy ferrets.

He ran to the lab, aware of the sounds of engines and shouts filling the castle. There were some soldiers within the castle walls, but again not enough, mostly Sand Raiders and easily dispatched. Stilton knew that if he missed this chance, it was all over. He would be taken into Martian custody and tried as a war criminal, his dreams of being the conqueror of the planet Mars turned to dust. If he screwed up, this would be the end.

But he made it to the lab undiscovered. Karbunkle was already there, quivering at the noises coming from the Freedom Fighters. "Ready the Tug Transformer!" yelled Stilton urgently. "Before they…"

There was a crash as the door was blasted open with a grenade. A moment later, the mice piled into the room, weapons at the ready, firing at the Sand Raiders that had raced to protect the lab. Most of the mice ducked behind the steel tables to which they had been strapped as prisoners of the Plutarkians.

Karbunkle attempted to scuttle away unnoticed, keeping low and moving fast to get out of the way of the laser blasts. Just as he thought he might get away with it, escaping through the elevator that would take him higher into the building and away from the fight, a hand grabbed the back of his lab coat and he was thrown face first into one of the steel walls, hard. Dazed, he used the wall for stability, turning to see who had manhandled him.

Manhandled was the wrong term. The grey female he'd briefly had in his grasp was behind him, a cold, hard look on her features. Before he could move, she snatched the front of his lab coat and slammed him into the wall again; making his teeth rattle, keeping her hands on the fabric and keeping him trapped. "You like brain surgery?" she asked and Karbunkle began to shake as she produced a gun from her jacket. It was the look in her eyes. There was no arguing with a look like that, no pleading and no mercy forthcoming.

"Tell you what, doc." She was almost spitting in fury, raising the gun to his right eye and holding it there. Karbunkle was suddenly convinced that the last thing he would ever see would be the darkness within that barrel and the hatred in the eyes of the mouse behind it. "This time, you can be on the receiving end."

For endless seconds, Karbunkle waited for the fatal shot – and then suddenly, the mouse had let him go and was blasting instead at Stilton, who had apparently caught her on her steel tail. Karbunkle took a moment to notice how well the device held up against the laser and then, recalling the old adage about those who run away living, fled for his life, riding the elevator out of the madness of the lab.

Up in Limburger's quarters, the Plutarkian was informing Lord Camembert via the Vid-screen that the Castle was under siege. Although he was unaware of what was happening elsewhere in the castle, he suspected that Camembert would panic, allowing Limburger a higher ranking to allow him to deal with it, then be unwilling to admit his mistake should he discover that the reports of the Martian attacks were a hoax.

"Regrettably so," he said insincerely to Camembert as the Grand High Poo-Bah bellowed. "And now it would seem that our esteemed Lord Stilton has mysteriously – albeit suspiciously – disappeared."

Camembert scowled. "Explain yourself Limburger."

"Simply that without proper leadership, I fear absolute anarchy is near at hand, unless – I am granted the official high ranking needed to strike back."

Rubbing his jowls, Camembert regarded Limburger through narrowed eyes. "Well…"

Karbunkle chose that moment to spring forth from the floor elevator, seeing Limburger and throwing himself on the fish's feet. "Help me! The mice are attacking!"

"Permission granted," said Camembert hurriedly. "Now DO something!"

"Commendable timing Doctor," said Limburger gleefully as the Vid-screen went to black.

"Well, perhaps," said Karbunkle. "But the mice really are attacking the castle!"

Limburger yelled in fright as a distant explosion shook the room. "Every medic, mutant and minnow for himself!"

The earth shaking blast had come from the lab, where the Freedom Fighters had dispatched the last of the Sand Raiders. Stoker glanced over to the Tug Transformer controls. He had been a scientist, before the onset of war. He thought it wouldn't be too hard to figure out how to permanently disengage the mechanism…

Until Stilton leapt up from the floor, diving over to the controls, handkerchief at the ready. He draped the material over the switch – and pulled. Immediately, the control panel lit up, an ominous bleeping emitting from it.

"Time to face your fate you foolhardy Freedom Fighters!" Stilton smirked as the device began to speak in an electronic voice.

"Tug Transformer lock on switch initiated. Planetary extraction in ten minutes."

"I am thrilled to announce the impending and now unavoidable birth of the newest Plutarkian moon," he gloated as the mice exchanged shocked looks. "A moon once known as the planet Mars!"

"Y'know, there's an Earth saying that I think might be appropriate right now," said Vinnie.

Carbine glanced at him. "What is it?"

"It's something along the lines of, 'oh shit'."

Stoker spun on his bike, heading for the wall of the castle. "Freedom Fighters – MOVE! We have to stop the Tug Transformer at all costs!"

The Freedom Fighters followed, blowing a hole in the side of the wall and leaping their bikes out, heading rapidly to Tharsis Rise volcano.

"Hey Stoker," said Carbine through her helmet radio. "Any ideas about how to stop it?"

"I'll think of that when we get there!"


	7. Phyrric Victory

**Authors Note: **This is the final chapter of the second story in this series, thanks for sticking with me and I hope you enjoy it! A special thanks to Inuficcrzy for the recommendation she gave her constant support of the series, as well as her great fics - big hugs!

Next part of the series should commence in a week or so.

_&&&&&&&&&& _

The Freedom Fighters weren't the first mice to arrive at Tharsis Rise however. Harley, accompanied by Rimfire, Primer and Chopper, had made her way straight there. After all, she reasoned, Stoker had just told them to get away from Alternate Post Fourteen. He never said _where_ they should go.

"Seven minutes to planetary extraction."

Harley frowned at the sound of the electronic voice, pulling some explosives out of her bag and handing them to the kids. "Stay out of sight, no matter what. Plant these around the volcano. If the Freedom Fighters can't stop the Tug Transformer in time, then this is our last chance. Maybe we can bury or damage it before it can take off if we drop enough rocks on it."

Rimfire took several of the explosives. "Think it'll work?"

Harley shook her head. "I don't know. But it's all I've got."

"If nothing else, it should distract the Sand Raiders if we need to," said Chopper encouragingly.

The four of them crawled around, planting the explosives, keeping low out of the sight of the Sand Raiders guarding the Tug Transformer. There were a lot more at the site than the Freedom Fighters had encountered at the Castle and taking care to remain unseen was time consuming. Rimfire was beginning to wonder if they'd ever get enough explosives rigged up in time…

"You behind there! Step into the open!"

All four mice froze at the sound of the Sand Raiders voice. Somehow, they had been heard or seen – and their odds of getting away when they were so heavily outnumbered were not good.

"I said…"

"_It's tail whippin time!" _

Over the horizon came the Freedom Fighters, kicking up dust behind them as they rode in with all guns blazing. To Rimfire, it was perhaps the sweetest thing he'd ever seen.

Primer grabbed his arm. "Come on! They'll have their hands full with the Plutarkians – so we should see what can be done about the Tug Transformer!" The three teenagers took off for the inside of Tharsis Rise, slipping inside unnoticed as the guards rushed outside to tackle the Freedom Fighters.

Vinnie stood on the seat of his bike, a gun in either hand, knocking two Plutarkian vehicles into the sides of the volcano. "Aaooww! I'm back, banged up and badder than ever!"

His celebrations were cut short when a stray laser hit the back of his bike and knocked him off balance, He scrambled quickly to his feet to see five more vehicles bearing down on him.

"…Not quite the comeback I had in mind."

A second later, a bike rode over the rocky ledge behind him, blasting the vehicles off course, sending them skidding away. Carbine landed in front of Vinnie, giving him a wink. "Save your tail special hotshot," she grinned before taking off back into the fray.

Vinnie sighed and shook his head. "Oh man. Way to impress the girl!"

The Freedom Fighters tore into battle, no formation that the Plutarkians could see, attacking relentlessly. Although the mice were outnumbered and battered from their earlier fights, they outclassed the enemy easily, with skills born of desperation and determination. A low flying missile sent the Freedom Fighters scattering, regrouping only seconds later and taking out the gun turrets that had been hastily erected at Tharsis Rise.

Throttle found himself being pursued by a Sand Raider stilt walker and four Plutarkian vehicles. He was rapidly running out of room to manoeuvre, so instead skidded to a 180 degree halt and blasted at the stilt walker. Its legs taken from under it, it collapsed, landing directly on top of the Plutarkians. "Take a load off," he joked, wincing as some debris sliced through his arm.

Harley rode up to him, bandages already in hand. "Try to steer clear of the crosshairs Throttle!"

"Gotta go with the battle mode Harley," he replied blithely, noticing an attacking Sand Raider behind her as she ducked to grab some more tape and punching him on the chin. The Sand Raider went down.

"How does it feel?"

"Factory perfect," he replied with a thumbs up.

Elsewhere, the Freedom Fighters were in an all-out war with the invaders, blasting their way toward Tharsis Rise, knocking the invaders aside or out. Vendel and Redstone traded high fives as they blasted a clear way through the Plutarkian vehicles, giving a clear run to Tharsis Rise – but they couldn't take the route as still more enemies attempted to block their paths and all the Freedom Fighters were forced to hang back just to hold them off.

Carbine fired her own gun, smiling grimly to herself. "I'm going to treat this rabble to the gentle feminine touch!" Doubling back, she rode behind a Plutarkian all terrain vehicle, blasting it into oblivion – and then a wall of flame seemed to burst up ahead of her. She leaned hard into a skid, unable to right her bike before it hit the ground and she rolled off, lying stunned on the ground.

Above her, Mace had joined the battle. The flamethrower he had used to throw her off course was still clutched in his hands as he took careful aim.

"Oh let's please redefine those overused words – well done Carbine!" He sniggered, raising the weapon – and then a bike came into view, circling around Carbine and her bike, blocking his shot.

Vinnie.

"Word of advice Mace," he shouted, unsmiling. "_Don't_ touch my girl!"

Hitting a button on his dash, he sent a couple of shots from his bike, smashing through the rock on which Mace was stood and knocking the traitor down along with the rock. Carbine scrambled to her feet and leapt on her bike, the two mice riding away as the rocks tumbled down on the spot where they had been mere seconds before.

"Impressed sweetheart?" Vinnie waggled his eyebrows at Carbine, grinning smugly.

"My hero," she replied dryly, using the blasters of her own bike to shoot the Plutarkians in her path out of the way.

Vinnie laughed as he joined in the shooting, hitting a Sand Raider that was trying to play chicken with them. "Aaooww! Who says couples shouldn't work together?"

"That's right." Carbine yanked the pin from a grenade and hurled it and the few enemies in their way, blasting the vehicles into shards of scrap metal. "Makes for a healthy relationship."

Throttle zoomed up beside them, noticing that the run to Tharsis Rise was finally clear, the Freedom Fighters still taking care of the few Plutarkians and Sand Raiders left. "To the heart of the matter!"

"Planet extraction in one minute," intoned the machine as the three of them rode into Tharsis Rise and saw the Tug Transformer for the first time. It was huge, ready to go and seemingly unstoppable.

"Okay, here's the plan," said Vinnie. "Zip zap n' Ziering zero!"

Carbine snorted. "You're dreaming hotshot. Gotta be a rip n' Remini and ten!"

"No, no, no, no!" Throttle shook his head emphatically. "Rob bop n' Paulsen doggle two!"

"That's lame-o that Remini ten!"

"Paulsen doggle is way overused!"

"Never works that Zeiring zero!"

A voice from above broke through their bickering. "Try hitch and ditch three!"

The three mice looked up to see Rimfire shouting down at them, Primer and Chopper right behind him. Carbine rolled her eyes. "Those kids have an obnoxious habit of disobeying direct orders!"

"The sign of good Freedom Fighters," said Vinnie with a grin.

"I only buy _that _excuse when we're the ones using it," she replied, giving a half-smile.

"Got the lay of the land kids?" asked Throttle as the teenagers jumped down from the platform they stood on.

"There's only three bolts anchoring this tug to Mars," said Primer, grinning.

"Fifteen seconds."

"Let's ride!" shouted Carbine urgently.

The three bikes took off, whirling blades emerging from the front and then ejecting. The blades sawed through the tubes attaching the bolts of the Tug Transformer to Mars.

In the background, the machine continued its countdown. "Ten… nine… eight…"

Meanwhile, the three teenagers were fiddling with the tracking system of the Tug Transformer, identical wicked smiles on their faces. As the older mice rode past, they slowed down long enough for the kids to jump on the back of their bikes and then sped up again, anxious to be out of the volcano before the Tug Transformer began its ascent.

"Three… two… one…"

Throttle, Carbine and Vinnie rode up to where the rest of the Freedom Fighters had gathered after defeating the stragglers of the Plutarkian guards, waiting to see if their plan had worked…

The Tug Transformer lifted from its resting place, no longer anchored to the planet, taking off for Plutark without Mars going along for the ride.

The Freedom Fighters all paused to watch it lift off as it dwindled out of sight, flying past the moon of Phobos and knocking off a sizable chunk.

"Oops," said Primer with mock dismay.

"Did we do that?" added Chopper.

"Our bad," finished Rimfire with a smirk.

Carbine glanced sideways at Vinnie. "Remind me never to have kids."

"Oh, I dunno," said Vinnie as he watched the chunk of moon sail toward Stilton's Castle. "I've heard of bringing down the house – but that's something else!"

Sure enough, the chunk of moon landed directly on Stilton's Castle, smashing it into oblivion. A cheer went up from the assembled Freedom Fighters as the symbol of Plutarkian oppression in Brimstone collapsed into rubble.

"AAOOOOWWWW!" Vinnie leapt off his bike, sliding back the visor on his helmet and punching the air. Noticing Carbine had also got off hr bike and taken off her helmet, he grinned suggestively at her. "Hey Carbine – how'd you like…"

Carbine cut him off with an unexpected display of public affection, kissing him full on. Vinnie immediately forgot how to be cool and sophisticated, beginning to blush and snigger instead. "Yeah," he said, his expression self-satisfied, Carbine still pressed close to him. "Well…"

"Smooth talker, huh hotshot?" said Carbine, raising her eyebrows with a smile.

"Oh please," said Stoker with mock-disgust, trying not to smirk.

"Come on Stoke, romance isn't all bad is it?" Harley snuck up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.

Stoker immediately started stuttering. "Well, uh – heh heh – I guess… um, yeah…"

Throttle shook his head, turning his attention to Rimfire, Primer and Chopper who were approaching. "High calibre job kids. Look us up in a few years."

"You bet!" said Rimfire in excitement, exchanging high fives with the girls.

"_Quite_ a few years," added Throttle, reaching out and ruffling Chopper's hair affectionately. Chopper ducked out of his way, protesting.

"Throttle," said Primer solemnly. "Do you think Uncle Modo was in the castle when we smashed it?"

"Hard to say," said Throttle, staring out at the column of dust rising on the horizon. "With him being under Plutarkian control, it's the obvious place for him to go back to."

"But – he saved me…"

"And he's not here," said Throttle, putting his hand on her shoulder. "But don't worry. We'll get him back – and that's a promise."

"Damn right!" said Chopper enthusiastically.

"I'm proud of you kid," said Throttle to Chopper, pulling on her ears playfully.

Chopper backed off, covering her ears protectively. "If this is what adults grow up to act like – remind me to never have kids!"

Throttle laughed, noticing that Vinnie and Carbine had finally come up for air and going to join them. "We did it!"

"We are the champions, my friends…" sang Vinnie, totally off key.

"And we'll keep on fighting 'til the end!" Carbine and Throttle joined in, grinning.

Stoker sighed, hiding his own smiles. "It gets worse…"

"Lighten up Stokes," said Vinnie. "You can…"

Another voice cut in, too familiar – and too unwelcome. "A little nightmare to remember me by!"

The Freedom Fighters turned to see Mace stood behind them, a smug look on his face – and a grenade launcher in his hands.

"_Look out!" _yelled Stoker in alarm, taking his own advice and hitting the floor, as the Freedom Fighters did likewise, reaching for their guns.

A second later, the grenade launcher shot its contents in their direction. The launcher only held one grenade but one was all it took for some major damage to be done.

The grenade missed hitting the mice by sheer luck as they dived to the floor, instead smashing into a nearby rock formation and blowing it into chunks. The rubble collapsed in a pile of dust, burying the mice unfortunate enough to have ducked into its shelter.

Laughing, Mace hit the button on his transporter and vanished an instant before the first laser hit him. There was a complicated moment as shots rang out and the dust hung thick around the mice, then Stoker realised Mace was long gone.

"Hey. HEY! Cease fire already!"

The gunfire ceased and he mice got to their feet, checking around to make sure no one was hurt. Throttle glanced beside him and saw Vinnie and Carbine with their weapons still in hand, rising to their feet. Stoker was helping Harley to her feet, the other Freedom Fighters were scattered in the area, seemingly no more injured than they had been before the fight and the kids were…

His gaze went to the pile of rubble left by the grenade. From beneath it poked a tail, a tan tail that looked an awful lot like Primer's.

"_Quick!"_ he yelled at Vinnie and Carbine, running off with the two of them in pursuit, clearly not understanding what had him so frantic. Reaching the pile, he began to drag rocks off and toss them aside.

Vinnie spotted the tail sticking from beneath the rocks and turned to the rest of the Freedom Fighters. "The kids are trapped under here!"

"They'll suffocate if we don't hurry up!" Carbine began to aid Throttle and Vinnie in pulling the heavy debris aside.

Within seconds, every Freedom Fighter there was desperately trying to clear the pile in a hurry. The smaller rocks, little more than pebbles, were brushed aside quickly, the larger ones tossed aside, still larger ones beneath. It became quickly obvious that the further down the kids were trapped, the harder it would be to move the heavier debris.

"I got Primer clear!"

Vendel dragged the girl out of the rubble, pulling her clear of the rescue operation. Filthy and dazed, there was a steady stream of blood flowing down the left side of her face, spread around so much that it was impossible to see where it all came from or how severe the cut was.

"Talk to me kid," said Vendel urgently.

"My eye," moaned Primer, covering her face, leaning on Vendel for support. "It feels weird – _ruptured_ – oh, I'm gonna be sick… it _huuuuurts_…"

"Here!" Carbine uncovered an arm, dirty but recognisable. Rimfire. "Give me a hand!"

Vinnie scrambled over and helped her clear enough rubble out of the way to reveal Rimfire's upper body, limp and unconscious, a gash slicing down his forehead and worse, one of his antennae snapped and listing in a ninety degree angle.

Not seeing any wounds worse than those around his face, Vinnie grabbed the kid under the arms and pulled him from under the rubble. After the initial resistance, the stones holding him down gave and Vinnie managed to drag him away from the rescue mission.

"Rimfire's clear, but he's out cold!"

Harley broke away from the rescue mission briefly to hurry over to Rimfire, taking his pulse quickly and glancing worriedly at his wounds. "We need to get him looked at by a real medic, Primer too. But it's not life threatening. Vinnie, go get my med bag from my bike."

Throttle threw some more rubble from the heap and suddenly a hand emerged through the bricks and started waving.

"Found Chopper!" announced Throttle, relieved, clearing the stones out of the way until her face was revealed, filthy but with little damage that he could see.

"How you doing kid?"

"Something's pinning down my legs."

"We'll get it clear right now." Glancing over at the other Freedom Fighters, Throttle gave them the thumbs up, to much relief. "She's pinned down, can we get her clear?"

Harley stood up from her quick examination of Rimfire, glancing at Primer and narrowing her eyes, looking up as Vinnie returned with her bag.

"Thanks. I need to get Primer sedated before the shock wears off and when Rimfire…"

Harley trailed off, moving her head to one side to look at the site of the rescue. Vendel and Redstone were about to clear the last of the rubble, a large rock pinning Chopper's legs to the floor, Throttle sitting next to her and talking calmly.

Vendel grinned over at Redstone. "Okay, after three – one, two…"

"_NO!"_

Vendel and Redstone both started as Harley raced over to them, indicating frantically for them to leave the rock alone. They didn't move he rock, but stared at her with identical looks of perplexity.

"We need to get her free babe," said Stoker, speaking into Harley's ear so no one elae could hear him.

"Not like this!" Harley turned around and stared Stoker right in the eye. "Look how close that rock is to the ground. Chopper can't feel any pain because the nerve endings are pinched off. And the reason she's not bleeding to death is because the arteries are pinched off too. We move that rock, we might kill her."

"So what do we do?"

"First thing, get Throttle the hell away from here and get something for tourniquets. And arrange for us to get to Utopia as soon as possible."

Stoker turned, going directly into leader mode without thinking. "Vinnie, get over here with the medical kit! Throttle, go get a sidecar attached to your bike, Carbine, you too and Vinnie. Denel, Shrapnel, come over here in case we need you. Vendel, Redstone, see to the twins. Everyone else, watch out I case we have uninvited guests."

Throttle looked up, suddenly worried. "Why? What's going on?"

"Come on," said Carbine, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him to his feet. "It's fine Chopper, we're just going to get the bikes ready to get you back to Utopia."

"Typical," muttered Chopper, her voice mildly slurred.

"So let's move already," said Vinnie, helping Carbine to hustle Throttle away from the area. He doubted their maniacal optimism was fooling Throttle for a moment, but Stoker's aim was obviously for them to be out of the way for a reason.

Harley pulled a syringe from her bag and talking calmly to Chopper the whole time, injected the girl in her neck. Breaking off for a moment, she handed the painkiller to Denel. "Go deal with Primer and Rimfire. They'll need it."

Nodding, Denel took off.

"You need anything else babe?" asked Stoker as Chopper's eye closed and her breathing slowed. She was out for the moment.

"Yeah," said Harley dolefully, shining the torch beneath the rock and biting her lip hard at what she saw. "Those tourniquets. A laser saw. And a blowtorch."

"What's really going on over there bros?" asked Throttle as the three grabbed their bikes, planning to ride them the short distance to Alternate Post Fourteen to grab the sidecars left there in case of emergency.

"I've no idea," said Carbine grimly. "But if Stoker wants us out of the way, you know there's nothing we can do."

"We're better suited to getting them to Utopia quickly than dealing with the medical stuff anyway," added Vinnie. "They'll be fine once we get them to a medic."

"They'd better be," snarled Throttle. "Because if Chopper's hurt if _any_of them are hurt - then Mace's future has Throttle in it. Front and centre."


End file.
